yours, tiramisu

love poems on chocolate bars

(i am writing this while listening to this song on repeat. thanks kay for the rec❣️)

When I was small my dad traveled frequently for work, and he'd always bring back little treats for me and my brother. One of my favorite things to get were Chocolove bars. I saw one in the airport today and it instantly reminded me of my childhood.

chocolove bar

The chocolate quality isn't anything to write home about, but I was always drawn to how the bar resembled a fancy handwritten letter, from the cursive lettering and stamps to the fake wax seal. Each bar comes with a love poem printed inside the paper wrapper, and it was on one of these very wrappers that I read my first poem (Pushkin, if you're curious). It's funny to me now, that my first memory of reading poetry is from a candy bar wrapper. I wish more product designs sparked joy like this: Chocolove's got love poems, Snapple their iconic fun facts under the cap. How hard could it be?

Naturally, I bought that Chocolove bar, but it feels bittersweet now that I'm buying it for myself on a business trip, almost twenty years after my dad did the same on his (and not just because it's dark chocolate). When I was younger, the treats and trinkets he brought back were promises of the world beyond, full of scrumptious snacks and delightful discoveries. But now that I'm there myself, I look back on that youthful naivete wistfully. I can buy myself all the candy bars I coveted as a kid, and heck I can even eat a whole bar in my hotel room without anyone telling me off, but they just don't taste the same anymore. Whether that's because I'm older and pickier now or because I know how much I gave (and continue to give) up to get here, I don't know.

I also used to envy people who got to hang out in airport lounges. Now that I'm in them, I can see that they're some of the saddest places. Every single person in the lounge this morning seemed afflicted with a chronic case of hurry sickness, tapping away at keyboards and jabbering away on meetings. They made me feel bad for not working and being the only one reading a book. Are you all willingly missing this beautiful sunrise? The workers there also always Sir me and eagerly swoop in to take my empty plates. I know it's their job, and of course I appreciate their attentiveness, but their obsequiousness makes me uneasy. What did I do to deserve this? (Maybe I'm uncomfortable because I know I don't?)

My mom asked me this week if I wanted to plan a vacation before the year was over, and like every year, it's a tough decision. On one hand, there are more holidays at the end of the year than any other time, which would make my precious time off go further. But on the other hand, traveling during the holidays sucks. Flights are expensive, places are overcrowded, and most importantly to me, it's the only time of year I get to see most of my friends. If I do decide to go somewhere during Thanksgiving, Christmas, and/or New Year's, it will mean not getting to see some of my dearest friends for another year or two. And just the thought of that breaks my heart.

Why does it have to be like this? Why do I only get to see the vast majority of my friends for one week a year (usually from Christmas to New Year's)? I don't get many chances to make wishes anymore, but when I do I always wish for the same thing: to have all my friends live within walking distance of me, preferably on the same street. I don't think many things could make me happier.


I just want to lay down somewhere and not get up for a long, long time...

thank you for reading; write to me at yourstiramisu 🐌 proton dot me

#english #journal #life #poetry